Pieces of Me
by kataract52
Summary: Gambit needs a vacation from all this superhuman in-fighting. An ordinary man might take a beach day, but that will never do for an X-Man. Instead, he decides to take a swim in the time line continuum. Guild lovers, rejoice! I'm dusting off all your old favorites. Featuring Jean-Luc, Bella Donna, Tante Mattie, Fontanelle, and many more.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** This story primarily deals with Gambit trying to solve the mystery surrounding his birth parents. In other stories, I followed Claremont's vision of Sinister cloning himself to create Gambit, but that version exists in another universe. Here, I'll be sticking more closely to the 616 MU. Right now Marvel's doing 'Civil War II', which barely uses Gambit at all, so I'm not deviating too much. This chapter's pretty mild, but future installments warrant the rating. Enjoy!

* * *

" _The possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery. There is always more mystery."  
~Anais Nin_

 **Pieces of Me**

The order to evacuate came long after the Chinese hospital had emptied. Nearby, a team of superheroes was battling, and patients had poured in until every bed, room, hallway and chair was filled. _Someone_ … no idea who… started a rumor that the nearby battle was coming. Had the invaders prevailed? Would they want to finish off the wounded? As you might imagine, that sort of rumor quickly sparked panic. The living bolted.

Which was exactly what I needed.

Typically speaking, I aim for more _subtly_ , but I didn't have the luxury of "blending in" with the locals. As a white man over six feet tall with demonic eyes, wild hair, and a flamboyant uniform, my usual baseball cap and sunglasses wouldn't cut it. Nor did I have an inside man. Hell, I didn't even speak the local dialect well enough to seduce a nurse! I needed those files and I needed to walk boldly through the building to find them. Since I couldn't hide, I removed the need to hide.

I don't know what I stole. Medical files, I know that much. But it didn't matter. And the less I knew, the less guilt I carried. Alias wanted them and he had something I wanted, too.

Simple as that.

On my way out of the country, I visited my old friend in Madripoor. She always treats me right. In retrospect, I suspect I was dragging my feet. I must've known nothing good would come from the exchange, but I couldn't help myself. I _had_ to know.

The medical files had been sealed in a fingerprint lock safe, which I traded for a wooden chest with a brass lock – like a pirate's treasure chest.

"You sure this is it?" I asked.

"Got any problems, you know where to find me."

I carried it home to my apartment in Manhattan. The kitties were happy to see me, those gluttonous bastards. Jubilee said any single man living with three cats is either queer or a super-villain. I don't know about " _super_ "… But I've gotten very comfortable with my unique role.

After a week of Eastern spices, I was elated to dine on red meat, potatoes, and carrot cake while catching up on the news. I shared with those merciful bastards. They hadn't peed on my pillow this time. They had, however, shredded the toilet paper and a door jam, but I was willing to forgive these minor offenses. Piss on the pillow was so _personal_.

Then we piled on the couch for a movie. I can't remember the name of it, but I remember thinking Robert De Niro must be in a pinch. Then I wished Rogue was nearby so I could tell her my lousy joke. She'd have a quick retort ready and we'd talk over the awful dialogue. Instead, I had alpha-cat Lucifer purring beside my head and his tubby brothers cutting off the circulation in my legs.

And the chest.

Closed and locked with a lifetime of secrets. I was waiting for someone to swoop in, attack me, and steal it away. Perhaps I even _wanted_ it to happen. But it didn't. It was mine now.

' _Let's move, people!'_ Cyclops must've said a million times. He was dead but his authority lived on.

With tingling legs, I knelt and opened the chest.

My birth certificate.

Only once in my whole life did I ever ask Jean-Luc about my birth parents. I was a man. Ready for the truth. Were they monsters like me? Luc sent me on a wild chase that he didn't think I'd complete and when I did, he destroyed any evidence of my blood family. What I knew wasn't pretty. Before Luc, I ran with a gang; before the gang, I was at an orphanage with no official records; before the orphanage, I belonged to a medical facility with ties to Sinister… Maybe Luc was right in protecting me from the truth.

Born April 3, 1913. Father: Jean-Luc LeBeau of New Orleans, USA. Mother: Lena LeBeau of Nice, France.

"Who's Lena?" I asked Luc over the phone.

"Where'd you hear dat name?" He sounded like a tea kettle ready to scream.

There was also a death certificate issued to 'Remy LeBeau' two days after birth. I didn't mention it.

"You know so _damn_ much," Luc steamed, "Tell me, _fils de pute_!"

I was relieved when he hung up. My father didn't often lose his temper, but when he did, he got quiet. He'd never raised his voice at me in anger; he'd never called me hurtful things before… I wasn't hurt. _Stunned_ more like it. This sort of reaction made him seem primitive when he wasn't.

"Sorry I lost m' temper," he said when he called back. Sounded like he'd been drinking. "Can we meet?"

"I'm in New York," I reminded him.

He was in France. "Somethings need said in person."

Two days later, he arrived at my apartment. I had the chest and its documents hidden with a friend. Jubilee had been hoping to receive the cats, and I'm sure they would've preferred her to Luc. Couldn't put it past him to destroy or steal this copy, too.

"Lena was my sister," he said. "An orphan with Guild ties, m' parents took her in. She slept in de nursery wit' me and my brother; grew up wit' us – we loved her like blood. Everyone did, she was a saint." He laughed bitterly. "It was a _problem_ … I was workin' in Russia when she wrote sayin' she was in de family way. By a colored man. If Daddy found out, he'd kill her and de babe. So she came t' me. I was t' hide her condition and find a home for the child, but she delivered early. Never made it t' Moscow. Then the Great War kicked up and I was stuck. Took two months t' travel and by then, she and the babe were dead."

So it was a dead-end. All my work bore no fruit.

"Why were you listed as the father?"

"Ain't no thing t' have a baby out of wedlock now. Back then, it was a massively bigger thing." He held his brass cigarette holder in his hand, flipping it over repeatedly without realizing what he was doing. I kept waiting for him to ask me to step outside so he could light up, but he never did.

"How'd I get her child's name?"

He swallowed thickly. "If I'd had a daughter, I would've called her 'Lena'. Got two boys instead. Seemed right. T' remember 'm by."

"That's right, you had _two_ boys. Why didn't you name Henri 'Remy' if you liked it so much?"

"Tilde wanted t' name 'm for her father." He smiled painfully. "Always got her way."

Henri's mother hemorrhaged during his birth and passed way hours later. I only know this because Tante Mattie told me. She said Luc hadn't been present at the birth – men never were then – but as Tilde bled, he broke in and held her and made her final moment's happy ones. She said he was the bravest man who ever lived. A man's world is the field and books and war, she said, men aren't built to birth babies and love them and bury them. Those were women's burdens. Luc entering the birth room was like a woman charging into battle. Blasphemous but brave.

" _I want you to take the Guild,"_ had been Tilde's final words. Again, according to Tante Matte, the Thieves Guild had been a sore spot in their otherwise blissful union. She wouldn't marry him because he already had a wife – his profession.

Tante reckoned Luc might've harmed himself if Tilde hadn't said what she said. And I could picture him now, prepared to surrender every battle – she could name their son, he would denounce his birthright – in exchange for her life.

How cruel to lose _two_ women he loved in child birth.

I know no one remembers their own birth, but I think Henri must've remembered something. All his life, he feared pregnancy. I used to imagine myself with five or six kids, but Henri never wanted any. Said I could have his share.

With trembling hands, Luc finally opened his cigarette case. No smokes. Instead, it held an antique picture of three children.

"That's her. Beautiful, non?"

The people looking back at me could've been anyone. Which boy would grow up to become my father? I couldn't say. No, the taller one – he had Luc's eyes. Nothing else matched. The girl, Lena, had fair hair and maybe dark eyes. She'd been moving when the picture snapped, so her face was blurred. I couldn't discern whether or not she was "beautiful".

"After the Second Great War," he continued, "It was my mother's dyin' wish that Lena should come home. Wanted her buried in de family crypt. I went myself t' open de grave. She and de babe were supposed t' be buried together… But the coffin was empty."

"Do you think… She _survived_?"

His laugh was heart-wrenching. "Nothin' so dramatic, I'm afraid. Grave robbers more likely. Use t' be big business, takin' bodies for medical students t' dissect."

I handed the picture back to him.

"Keep it. I can't look at it and I want somethin' t' remember her by."

Henri, Tilde, Lena… In all cases, Luc lost his mind when they died. I remember he destroyed every picture and possession of my brother's when he passed. Mercy didn't speak to him for three years, she was so pissed. Imagine he did the same with all of Lena's things and Tilde's. It was a small miracle this picture survived, although truthfully, it meant nothing to me. I didn't know these people.

He boarded the next flight out, and I let him depart with his dignity.

But I knew he'd lied.

Luc _always_ got the upper hand. If his sister had needed him, he would've flown straight to her. He would never have asked a pregnant woman to travel across the world – alone. And if his father had tried to hurt her, Luc would've kicked his ass.

My father conveyed genuine emotion and I'm sure certain elements were true, but I knew him well enough to know this tale didn't fit his character.

* * *

"Gotta be honest, kid," Fence said, eyeing me warily, "Never imagined you for the drug-taking type."

I lifted the bag of MGH – mutant growth hormone – from his heavy hand.

"Would you believe it's for a friend?" I asked.

He laughed, gladly taking the bait. I hadn't lied, but had offered him the gift of deception. Later, he'd remember me saying the MGH was for a friend.

No, I used it. Why? My ability to convert matter into energy always was my signature power, but my other abilities – charm, agility, time travel - were less predictable. Ever since Sinister had removed part of my brain, the last trait had been mostly dormant. And I needed it in full force.

A normal man would've taken a vacation, I reckon. Being head of a global criminal organization while my race was being exterminated was stressful enough to warrant one. But a day at the beach wouldn't cut it. I was going back in time to find out what happened to Lena and her baby.

* * *

 _1901 New Orleans_

The sun had set and the moon was high, but the summer heat hadn't cooled and the occupants of the LeBeau household were still busy. Wide windows and wooden doors were propped open to allow the air to circle through. I caught sight of two boys leaning out to feel the cool wind and heard a woman fuss at them.

"Leon! Luc! Get your worthless hides away from the window before you fall and I've gotta clean you up!"

"Fall from here won't kill us," Luc retorted. "Just break my arm again. That ain't no worse than baking t' death."

"If I've gotta climb those stairs with this bum knee, I'll break _both_ your arms!"

"No you won't, neither! 'Cause I'll run back downstairs and you'll never catch me!"

She cursed their rotten souls and they laughed at her impotent fury.

On the street, other servants from other homes carried out wash or trash. I hid at first. When it became apparent I should've been seen, I stopped ducking and walked around with them. They focused on their tasks, content to ignore me, but when they spoke, I realized they had no idea I was standing right beside them.

A horse-drawn carriage came slowly, loudly down the stone street, and parked in front of the LeBeau home. The servants vanished. I walked up to Jacques and Rochelle, confident no one could see me. Could they hear or feel me? I didn't yet know. My other time traveling experiences had been vastly different. This Scrooge-esque method of watching but not interfering was – to my understanding – something new.

A small girl with white-gold hair and tiny white hands emerged from the carriage. She bashfully looked up at two towering adults.

"It's a _sin_ that she's so pretty," Rochelle said. "She'll bring us nothing but shame."

Jacques returned to the house, saying: "She's just a little girl."

* * *

 _1903 New Orleans_

Everyone was in the library. Lena stood in the corner, weeping. My would-be-father, still a boy with a falsetto voice, stood between her and his mother. He shouted in defense of Lena and Rochelle raised her hand to smack him.

Luc covered his face, but his father grabbed Rochelle's wrist.

"Strike him and I'll whip you like a dog!" Jacques thundered.

"It's not _natural_!" She screamed, "The _devil_ has this house! The devil has claimed us with the sin that _you_ permitted!"

"The only devil here is your female hysterics. Submit yourself to your husband and love your children as the Lord commanded."

"She's _bewitched_ you! We're all _damned_!" Rochelle screamed and slammed the door behind her.

Jacques sighed. "Is it true, son? Were you kissin' Lena?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I'll have to whip you. Her, too. That what you what?"

"No, sir."

"Then knock it off, boy. What's the hell's _wrong_ with you?"

The room darkened as if a cloud had rolled over the sun and I smelled the threat of rain.

* * *

 _1994 New Orleans_

I knew this alley. I knew it well. This is where I "met" Bella Donna when we were kids. Some men tried to kidnap her – at least that was the premise – but I swooped in just in time to watch her clobber them. She'd been eating an ice cream cone and I hadn't had a haircut in nine months. When she retrieved her knife from the brick wall, she grinned at me. There went my heart.

The world darkened once more – like a TV with a weak bulb. Slowly, more and more of the picture faded away until I floated in darkness.

* * *

I heard a constant humming. Like a refrigerator. Short red carpet spilled out in every direction, but when I looked up, I saw a range of stars. Open space pulled me into infinity.

The USS Enterprise.

Fuck yeah!

"This is a first," Fontanelle said. She was standing behind me with a glass of scotch in each hand.

"Am I dreaming?"

"You and me both, tiger," she winked and handed me a drink.

Gloria Dayne, the dream-therapist mutant known as 'Fontanelle', had once been hired to spy on me. She was an old hippy with delusions of grandeur. Even in dreams, she was always wearing too much make-up and drinking too much.

"What're you doing here?" I asked. "Come to kill me again?"

"I didn't come to you, baby, _you_ came to _me_! Opening portals, sucking people in, shaking up the time line continuum."

"Oh. Shit."

"I know, right?" She finished her drink. "How do I refill?"

"Computer. Another."

It appeared and she smiled. "Hot damn! I'd warn you to knock it off, but you probably wouldn't listen anyway, would you?"

"Probably not."

"Yeah, I thought so."

I took a sip. I knew it would be unwise to continue… I couldn't control my time travel and already knew too much… But I'd started this to find Lena and give my father and Rochelle some peace. She must've felt terrible about how she treated the girl. Maybe they'd never been united in life, but they could come together in death. Besides, I couldn't give Fontanelle the pleasure of thinking I was a coward.

"How long we got?" I asked.

"You tell me, Captain."

…

 _To Be Continued…_

…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 _1911 New Orleans_

"Your son came to see me today, Mr. LeBeau," said the priest.

"Which one, Father?"

The holy man pursed his lips. "Come, let's speak frankly. He wants to marry-"

" _Shh!_ My wife is about."

"You _must_ tell him. He's determined to take this straight to the Vatican. Do you want the _world_ to know?"

"Damn the world."

"If you like-"

"I'll send him abroad. Some charming _courtesans_ will make him see the error of marriage."

The Father crossed himself.

By now, I had to be getting close to her unfortunate death. I remembered how I felt when the time storm pitched, and sure enough, this worked to summon it. Darkness. Rain. Thunder…

* * *

 _1913 New Orleans_

Lena sat at a writing desk wearing a pink tulle dress and pointedly ignoring Rochelle.

"Stop that at once!" Rochelle snapped and snatched away her pen. "You'll _ruin_ your gloves! Who are you writing, anyway?"

"Give it back!"

"Luc?!" She ripped the letter into eights. "You should be writing love letters to Colonel Brandon! The sooner he agrees to marry you, the sooner my son will be free of your spell!"

I felt sick. Lena had only ever loved one man. He wasn't poor or black or Jewish or anything else that would've scandalized nineteenth century New Orleans society… The next century witnessed a gradual decline of bigotries that meant acceptance for all sorts of relationships, but some things remained taboo.

"I'll never marry Brandon! I _love_ -"

She slapped Lena. "You stupid devil! He's your _brother_!"

" _Adopted_ brother."

"No," she hissed, digging her nails into Lena's biceps. "Your mother was a whore, too. Her dead husband was as fake as her soul. _Jacques_ is your father. Why else would I suffer you under my roof?"

Something in Lena's eyes died.

Rochelle seemed stunned by herself. "Now look… You've ruined your hair." Actually, _she'd_ ruined Lena's hair when she slapped her. "Let's get you pretty for Col. Brandon, eh?"

"No, I… Suddenly feel ill…" She covered her mouth and vomited on her satin white gloves.

Okay, she was probably pregnant. I focused on keeping the picture, trying to only move a little forward in time.

* * *

 _2004 New Orleans_

 _L'enfer!_

I knew this day well, too. It was my wedding day. Me and Belle.

I wanted to run, honest I did, but I had to know if she was as beautiful as I remembered… And then I couldn't look away. Eighteen years old… Christ, we were _babies_. My dad tried to talk me out of it, just like his father had tried to warn him. And just like my father before me, I thought I knew more than some stupid old man.

Belle's father was right to distrust me. Hell, he deserved to punch my ugly face. Could've only knocked some sense into me.

What did I know about commitment?

Here comes Julien…

"I spit on you, LeBeau! And on your _clan_!"

Our families, sick of holding us back, finally let us fight it out. With a little acquired wisdom, I've decided Julien was just a bad tempered teenager who'd been fed a lifetime supply of prejudice and couldn't tolerate me as his sister's husband. But back then, I was convinced he was the epitome of evil. I thought I was doing the world a favor by ending his life.

How had I missed the fear in his eyes? Belle's screams for mercy? The disgust on my father's face?

I had to _stop_ this.

No one could hear or see me. When I tried to grab Julien, my hands went right through him. I stumbled and rolled through eighteen-year-old me. Young-me turned, confused. He'd _felt_ me! Or he'd felt something! I ran and stood where he was – both of us sharing the same space. Then Julien tackled young-me and we were separated again. His blade thrust between my ribs – that hadn't happened! – and suddenly, I had a new scar. I nearly _killed_ myself.

Dying wouldn't make this right.

I had to get the hell out of dodge.

" _Remy!_ " Belle managed to overpower the Assassins holding her back. She sprinted to her brother. Meanwhile, Julien pulled a hidden dagger and threw it. The blade, meant for my eye, cut her wedding dress and pierced the flesh beneath.

 _Mon Dieu_ , what had I done? _None_ of this had happened. None of this was ever _supposed_ to happen.

The whole church shuttered as I left – everyone felt it. Apparently, time traveling was like every other power: being emotional can cause unintended consequences. The storm didn't just shake the world, it also picked up another passenger.

* * *

 _2010 Muir Island_

"Where in tarnation y'all been?" Rogue – holy hell! _Rogue?_ – fussed at her X-Men comrades.

Nightcrawler was saying something about the Shadow King but I couldn't concentrate. Rogue's over-sculpted, Brigitte Nielsen inspired hair-do was too distracting. How old was she?

I was surprised to see myself. Didn't remember being here at all. Funny, I'd think such an important event would be seared into my memory, but I don't remember meeting Rogue. Now I realized the moment wasn't extraordinary at all. But despite the normality of the situation (normal for an X-Man) and her insane hair, she was still beautiful.

I'd last seen Belle on our wedding day two minutes ago. As gorgeous as she was, Rogue rivaled that image without even trying.

Someone behind me was headed my way. I turned to get out of the way and came face to face with my ex-wife.

"Bell-?"

She left-hooked me.

"What the hell?!" I rubbed my jaw.

"I _know_ you've got something to do with this! What's wrong with them? Why can't they see us?"

"Long story," I sighed. "How old are you?"

She crossed her arms.

"Do you _want_ to be trapped with me? Because that's what'll happen unless-"

"Look!" She pointed at Rogue, who now had a blue, furry face, pointed tail, and organic steel limbs. How was _none_ of this familiar? Rogue and her time-correct team were preparing for another battle against the Shadow King. Could that sinister telepath see Belle and me here? If so, he wouldn't have to work hard to turn young-me and my team against me. That wasn't a risk I wanted to take.

"That's our cue," I said, grabbing Belle's arm.

I summoned up the darkness and rain. The thunder sounded more like creaky old wood – like a wheel struggling to turn. As time washed us away, I realized the Shadow King had erased our memories of this fight.

* * *

Back on the Enterprise.

I listened for Belle but only heard the engine humming. I walked down to the bar, where I figured I'd find Fontanelle.

She was mixing a drink. "You can't dream up a decent bartender?"

"I don't drink."

"Not everything's about _you_ , dear!"

"Speaking of 'not me', where's Belle?"

She set two glasses on the counter and filled them both. I started to decline when she sucked them both dry.

" _Now_ Auntie Fontanelle is ready to hear your problems," she smiled.

" _Bella Donna_ ," I repeated. "Something happened, she got pulled into the time stream with me. Tried to get her home. Did it work?"

She filled the glasses again. "She went _with_ you? How'd _that_ happen?"

I rolled my eyes and returned to the bridge.

"Belle, on screen," I said.

The enormous screen at the bow played several memories of my happier days with Belle. I suppose I'd only asked to _see_ her; I hadn't asked where she was in time. And if this whole thing was a mere product of my imagination, the ship couldn't provide _new_ information. The memories were chronological so I let them play out while I made notes about my journey.

My next jump should put me in 1915, which meant I'd miss Lena's death, burial, and surrounding conspiracy. _Merde_ … I had no way of knowing where I'd turn up in my own timeline, but I decided not to interfere anymore. If I changed things, I might create a world where I'd never gone back in time… And since the universe couldn't tolerate a paradox, I risked destroying the universe. Julien sure as hell wasn't worth it! From now on, I was a _watcher_. I was eager to return to my right time and expose the Shadow King's vast mind-wipe. Our strongest telepath now was… Psylocke. Not exactly a trustworthy candidate. Maybe I wouldn't tell them right away.

And then there was Luc… Had he _really_ been in love with Lena? Enough to marry her. After he discovered their relation (did she tell him?), why didn't he try to pass off the baby as Brandon's? Did they run away, hoping to start over in a new country? I know this much: after Lena and the baby died, he pretended they'd never existed. What kind of man treats his _family_ like a _problem_? Maybe Lena had _never_ known love… but she was my family, too, and it's never too late to do the right thing.

"Computer, log entry."

I was about to jump back into the time stream when my brain cell activated.

' _Don't jump, idiot,'_ it said, _'Use the teleporters!'_

"The teleporters!"

' _You're welcome.'_

Below deck, Fontanelle was waiting in a black and yellow Starfleet uniform (one of the unflattering skirt-versions). She poured herself another glass from the drinker mixer.

"Why don't you drink from the mixer?" I asked.

"Why don't you shut the hell up."

"Ms. Dayne – send me to wherever Lena is in 1913." I climbed onto the teleportation pad.

"How about 1975? I was quite the catch-"

…

 _To Be Continued…_

…

 **Author's Notes:** I'd like to take a moment to discuss the time line and the LeBeau family tree… Jean-Luc was probably born prior to 1901 – probably closer to 1880. Marvel's given us the name of his parents and where he was born, but everything else I've flushed out. We don't know how many siblings he had or what their names were; if he ever married; what children beside Henri he might've fathered. Also, Remy was born before the 1980s, but unlike us, comic books exist in a world of suspended time. I had to pick a date, so that's what I chose. Gambit and Rogue met off-panel; think I got the Muir Island vibe from Lori McDonald's 'Gestalt Arc'. I've zipped through a lot of Gambit's history with Belle because it's been told and re-told in various versions. However, if you're interested in learning more, I'd recommend checking out his bio on uncannyxmen dot net or lediableblanc dot com.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

 _1913 Kiev_

"Remy!"

"Belle? You're still-"

She silenced me with a firm hug. "I've _never_ been so happy to see you! That poor girl's been in labor all night."

"Lena?"

We were in a small, dark house. All the curtains had been drawn so I couldn't see what time of the day or what season it was. The only light came from a room down the hall.

"The midwife's a _monster_ ," Belle said. "I told her not to hurt her, but-"

"She can't hear you."

"Yeah, but I figured out how to possess her."

" _Belle!"_

"They were gonna cut her open! She would've _died_!"

My blood ran cold. "She's _supposed_ to die! We're not here to _save_ her! She and the baby both-"

A man emerged from the room carrying a bundle in his arms. Luc's profile drew closer and closer, eclipsed us, and vanished into another room. Lena called out but he pretended not to hear her. Hysterical, she limped after him and pounded on the door.

"He's killing the baby," Belle whispered. Her bright violent eyes seemed small and bright. She glanced at me before running through the door like a hologram.

My body felt like lead, but I forced myself to move.

Luc had set the babe in bed and poured himself a drink. Another man was in the room, too.

Belle and I stood perfectly still in the shadows in case this man was a time traveler like us. My imagination ran wild – was he a demon? Or an angel?

When Luc handed him a drink, we both sighed with relief.

"I know this is extremely upsetting," the man said, "But I've seen it more than you can imagine. She seems beyond reason now, but give it time. The pain she feels tonight will fade and one day, this will all seem like a nightmare. Nothing more."

Luc put his lips to the bottle and guzzled the whole thing. If I hadn't seen him as a boy, I wouldn't recognize him now. He looked more like that ten-year-old than the middle-aged man I'd meet, but I was beginning to see worry lines and the frown that would soon dominate his features.

"Her child, conceived in sin, will be raised in blissful ignorance. The family will raise him from humble beginnings into a strong and righteous man. Forgive me – they prayed for a son. Did the Lord turn in their favor?"

"Yeah. You have it then?" he asked.

The man opened a bag and retrieved a heavy doll. "She's not to see the 'child'. No one is except Father Bosvil. I'll exchange the dressings to confuse-" He flinched away from the baby and gasped.

"What is it?" asked Luc.

The man crossed himself. "His _eyes_! He is – he is hellspawn!"

"Lower your damn voice!" he hissed.

I suppose I'd known it all along, but I couldn't accept it until this very moment. Why had I come so far for a woman I never knew? Why had I been so fixated on a baby who hardly lived at all? From the moment I'd received the chest, I must've known what I'd find…

Outside the door, Lena had stopped pounding and screaming. Now she'd fallen, sobbing and pleading.

Belle leaned over the baby. "It's too dark. I can't see. He won't open his damn eyes!"

I didn't need to see. I knew it.

That baby was _me_.

The man had apparently intended to find a new home for him – me – but refused now.

Luc snatched his collar. "We had a _deal_!"

After a heated, hushed argument, the man agreed to take the baby. He wouldn't farm the child out to a Christian family, though. There was another man in his trade who favored "unique" traits. I was to be given to this man and who knew what he'd do with me.

Shockingly, my father agreed. He just wanted to be rid of me.

* * *

 _Two days later…_

"I'm going into town," Luc said, pulling his boots on.

Belle looked at me. "We have to stop him."

"I'll borrow some money from Sascha for the coffin."

Belle said, "You were wrong about the baby. Maybe you're wrong about her, too."

Lena was propped up in bed, gazing blankly at her soft, white hands. Luc laid his calloused hands over hers and said, "I can get you something while I'm there… A sweet. A book. Anything you want, love."

She blinked back tears. "I'd like a grave near a tree if they've got one."

"For the baby?"

"Yes… Yes, for the baby."

As Luc left, Belle decided she'd stay behind with Lena while I followed Jean-Luc. He did exactly what he planned: borrowed money from a friend, paid the church for a plot of land near a tree, and bought some chocolates. All around him were the stirrings of war, but he was oblivious.

I followed him home, too, where Belle stopped me at the door. Luc stepped inside, stopped, and dropped the sweets.

"How'd she do it?" I asked.

"Hanged."

His screams scared off the crows but drew the neighbors. The old ladies were the first on the scene, followed by some rowdy street kids. One of them was sent to find a priest.

"She saw me," Belle said. "At the end. She looked right at me."

* * *

 _2014 New Orleans_

Thankfully, the room we next appeared in was dimly lit.

"My room," said Belle. "Why are we here?"

A slightly younger version of myself crept in through her window. He went to her bed, where she was sleeping nude, and knelt beside her.

"This is after you came to the X-Men for help against the Brood," I said. "I thought you were dead…"

It was too much. My emotions were still raw from learning about my parents. Fuck, I had _parents_. To go from that misery to this point was more than I could bear. For the first time in my whole life, I wanted to quit and go home. I wanted to forget everything I'd seen and go back to who I was before.

"You look like shit," Belle remarked.

I looked at her. "I thought you were _dead_."

Even now, the emptiness was overwhelming. I didn't take my eyes off her as her father's henchmen felt my fury. Young-me ran off for a cure to save her life while a younger version of Rogue kept Belle company.

"Did _she_ have to come?" asked Belle.

"Rogue was only trying to help."

She laughed bitterly. "I'm not your fresh-faced virgin lover over there. Not that love-sick, jolted woman, either. You _used_ her to keep me from getting too close… And you used _me_ to keep _her_ at arm's length, too! Bet you got that cure by _seducing_ Candra, didn't you?"

"I did what I _had_ to do to _save your life!_ "

"I thought you _loved_ me! I thought we were _reconciling_ and then _she_ starts coming around! And you _let_ me blame her because you wanted a girl in every port."

"Can always count on _you_ to kick a man when he's down."

Young-me mixed the potions to create Belle's antidote. Rogue was bubbling with her newly realized deep feelings for me. Even then, before I realized she'd accidently absorbed Belle, I was cynical of the timing. But just in case I held onto any hope, my ex-wife was there to smash all my dreams.

"She never _loved_ you. That was _me_ talking!"

Time to get off this ride.

* * *

 _2017 Utopia_

"Ah don't mean that in a _bad_ way, my love. You were just always there, inside my guard. Under my skin. There's a part of me that's always been _joined_ with you, even when we couldn't touch."

Oh, fuck me. As if living through this once hadn't been bad enough. Now I got to watch Rogue dump me again, ex-wife in tow.

"Enjoy," I said and left her there.

I walked through the now-extinct streets of the former mutant haven. Why had I ever come here? Not traveling through time, I mean why did I ever come to _Utopia_? For her. Honestly, every stupid decision I ever made was because I was trying to please _her_. Why did I stay after she kept pushing me away? This segregation and militarization wasn't my dream. None of us signed up for this. Utopia-me couldn't compromise with New Orleans-me; life was always one extreme or the other. I was beginning to hate them both.

"Why are we here?" Belle asked once she'd caught up with me.

"Isn't it obvious? Because the universe loves to torture me."

" _You're_ the one steering-"

"No! I'm not! I don't want to be here. Sure as hell don't want _you_ here! Reliving the worst times of my life with my ex providing commentary. Even _I'm_ not that masochistic. This whole thing is just one shitty memory after another until we die."

* * *

 _2013 New Orleans_

"I hear Jean-Luc is coming out of retirement."

"One thing you're always good for, Minister Tome – _gossip_."

He bristled. "Perhaps you might consider keeping a lower profile."

"Ha! The day I fear a common thief is the day I lose my kingdom."

I looked around the dusty library but didn't see Belle. Had she gone home? Somehow, I doubted it. If history was an indicator, she was off to find a solution now that she knew I didn't have one. This was as good a place as any. Better than most.

If I was right, this was the heart of the Velvet Ministry. Antiquary, a man as old as the name implied, acquired all knowledge at any price. Even children were pawns in his schemes. When my father became Guildmaster, he banished the old man, although why he spared the man's life, I'll never know…

Belle was upstairs doing push-ups.

"Expected to find you curled up with a Barbara Cartland."

She continued unbothered.

"Chere?"

Silence.

 _Merde_ , was she of this time? No, she heard me. Anyone who got access to the Velvet Ministry didn't waste time exercising. She was giving me the silent treatment. Merciless Assassin could've ended me. She could've slowly tortured me to death or broken my nose. Believe it or not, I would've preferred any of those things to her indifference. The silence stretched out between us, killing me like a needle under the fingernail. Inside, my soul withered to smoke.

"I'm sorry about… what I said."

Down and up, up and down.

"You're right. We should've talked about Rogue sooner. I had no idea you felt that way. And yes, I still loved you, but that chapter was closed. I never planned to re-open it."

This was killing me. How could I disarm her?

"Don't fall."

She shook, collapsed, and giggled. "Goddamn you, LeBeau."

Sweeter words had never been spoken.

Antiquary clapped his hands and greeted a newcomer. "Damien! Wonderful to finally meet. I trust your journey was comfortable?"

Belle and I leaned over the railing to see a young boy with a bowl haircut and freckles. He wore a black cloak that concealed everything below his neck.

"I'm ready to begin," Damien replied.

"Excellent. This way."

They passed down the hall below. Antiquary walked right by us – like Jacques and Luc and everyone on Utopia – but Damien stopped and glanced up. His eyes roamed over Belle before locking onto my eyes. Then he smiled and moved on.

"Did he see us?" Belle whispered.

"Impossible."

But I didn't _know_ that.

We quickly departed and wandered familiar streets.

This place in time wasn't perfect, but I was sorely tempted to stay. We were happy, Belle and I, and I didn't want that to change.

We walked down to the cemetery to see my brother's grave. (I was right, by the way, Belle had tried to find an answer in the books, but she couldn't turn a page or select a book. Her hands went right through.) After Henri died, Mercy skipped town after Luc snapped and destroyed his things. Since my father was in the habit of ignoring my brother's life, his grave was lonely.

We didn't discuss Henri at all. Since I'd mortally wounded Julien and Julien had killed Henri, it seemed like a slippery slope for us. I didn't want to fight. Instead, I asked about what she did when I ascended to the Enterprise.

"It's somewhere in the Middle Ages," she said. "There's a pool of prayers that come to us-"

" _Us_? There are others?"

"Yes, the Assassins Guild… You mean, you're all alone?"

"You could've gone anywhere and been anyone, Belle."

"I'm perfectly content being me. Try it sometime. In my world, we answer prayers."

I didn't like the sound of that. "What sort of prayers?"

"To punish rapists, murderers, and tyrants. To avenge wrongdoings. To end suffering…" She fell silent and when I said nothing, she said, "I don't expect you to understand. Escorting someone from this life is a sacred honor."

I wondered if that was the reason for her early arrival at my birth. Who'd been praying for death? Two days later, when my mother died, I wondered who had _really_ killed her. Luc's lies? My supposed death? Her noose? Or had it been because of me? After all, I was proof of her crime. We shared her body for nine months and every day she must've worried whether or not I'd be disfigured, disabled, or otherwise branded by the sin of incest. She must've mourned the loss of the family we could never be: the truth would've put my father in prison. I imagine the fear and guilt and shame grew inside her with me, and once she was free of me, she rushed to commend her sinner's soul to heaven. Or maybe it was simpler. Perhaps Belle had simply held her noose when it might've snapped.

But I didn't have the courage to ask.

"I'm trying to fix this." I said.

"Why're we here, _mon cher_?"

Her hand was cool as I held it between mine. Belle was the sort of person who showed less emotion than she felt. If she'd used a term of endearment… Why, I must've done _something_ right.

"Lena's parents wanted her buried _here._ With the family. But Luc said her coffin was empty in Russia. I know it was a hundred-some years ago, but if we're still alive… Why couldn't _she_ be?"

"I _saw_ her die."

"Stranger things have happened."

She opened her mouth to argue and shut it again. I was beginning to wonder if she was giving me another silent treatment when she said: "Why didn't Jean-Luc change your name?"

"Hm?"

"When he adopted you. Could've given you another name. A man like him should be more _proficient_ at lying."

"My mother picked the name."

"How do you know?"

"He told me…"

"And you _believe_ him?" She looked up at the sky and watched as two sparrows chased a hawk. "The baby buyer sold you to the Velvet Ministry."

"Most likely," I agreed.

"But why the _seventy-three_ year gap? If they have the ability to time-travel, wouldn't they go back in time to stop Jean-Luc from banishing Antiquary?"

" _I_ must've done it… Dr. MacTaggert said losing a mother's a traumatic thing. Even for newborns. She was always trying to talk to me about it, rest her nosy soul. Trauma's usually what activates mutant abilities, so I must've propelled myself forward in time."

"As a _newborn_?"

"Stranger things..."

She bit her lip. "Did you _also_ move yourself to New Orleans?"

It was a fair question, but before I could respond, young-Belle walked to her brother's grave.

"Must be a Sunday," she said.

"You always came on Sundays?"

"Until your obnoxious sister-in-law decided New Orleans was _habitable_ again. Then I started coming on Wednesdays and she did, too. I don't think she came seven days a week, I think she was _stalking_ me."

"Probably wanted to hang out."

"I'm not her _friend_."

Young-Belle set a paper pin-wheel on Julien's grave. Then she walked to Henri's and set one on his. A lump rose painfully in my throat.

"You came every Sunday…"

"Didn't go out of my way or-"

I grabbed her face and kissed her mouth. Her stern lips melted and her hands pushing against my chest relaxed. _Mon Dieu_ , what was I doing? I slowly pulled away, apology on my lips, when she smiled.

"Should've told you years ago."

"There was lot we should've said," I agreed.

But how could we ever discuss it now? It'd devolve into a he-said/she-said sling fest founded on fused memories and half-forgotten truths. And what _good_ could possibly come of it? It wouldn't heal the pain or loneliness. Ultimately, too much scar tissue surrounded the wounds we'd inflicted to feel any tenderness. Shared defeat was all we had.

…

 _To Be Continued…_

…

 **Author's Notes:** I know a lot of people are going to be unhappy with my choice of Gambit's parents, but I hope you'll stick with the story anyway. We've seen in the past Luc's reluctance to confront Remy's birth family and given his emotional disconnect, I'd have to assume some _other_ reason than sentimentality. Selling babies is historically accurate. Everyone had a finger in the pie – the Catholic Church wanted bastards to be raised in "godly" homes; un-married women wanted to adopt children (which they couldn't legally do in many places); some baby buyers demanded money to raise the child and then killed it for a profit. Others put life insurance on the baby and then killed it to collect. The baby buyers claimed to have the child's interest at heart, but most of them were thieves and murderers who were never punished for their crimes. In most cases, the mother had no say in the fate of her child; and obviously, nearly all of the children lived and died without ever knowing the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes:** This chapter's long, but it's mostly dialogue and smut.

 **Chapter Four**

 _USS Enterprise_

Fontanelle was nowhere to be seen. _Good_. I couldn't handle a single word from her wrinkled, painted mouth.

I walked straight to the holodeck.

Inside, Rogue was sitting in the teacher's lounge at the Jean Grey School. She was bent over a small stack of papers and smiled when she saw me.

"Good timing. Ah'm ready to sell my soul for a cup of coffee," she said.

"This devil ain't after your soul." I opened the cabinet holding coffee ingredients and started a fresh pot. "What else you got?"

She came up behind me and grabbed my ass. I reached for her, but she'd slithered back to her seat. _Fine_. I brewed a pot, fixed her cup, and carried it to her. With a smile, she accepted with both hands and brought it to her mouth.

I grabbed her breasts.

"Remy!"

Her hands were still holding the coffee cup, so she couldn't slap me away. Short of throwing the coffee in my face – which we both knew she'd never do – she was defenseless. My mouth nibbled her neck and found its way to her ear lobe.

" _Remy_ …" She dropped her mug. As it rolled away, coffee spilled on her papers. "Stop. Anyone could walk in here."

"Then we'd better hurry." I ripped her pants open and pushed her head down on the table. The table scraped loudly as we came together. Her coffee mug shattered on the floor. Mon Dieu, making her mine again was heaven, and the added thrill of our vulnerable position made me finish almost instantly.

Kitty phased through the locked door. "What's-? Oh god!"

She quickly exited, cursing us all the way down the hall. _Idiot_.

Rogue slapped me. "Now everyone's gonna think we're back together!"

My heart dropped as she wiggled back into her uniform.

"End program," I said and the lounge faded.

Back in my quarters, I got drunk. In fact, I was _so_ drunk for _so_ long that _Fontanelle_ grew concerned.

"It's not Mardi Gras yet, sweet cheeks. Get up. You've got work to do."

" _Leavme 'lone_."

"You've gotta _wake up_ if you want to lose me." She put her hands on her hips.

"But that means…"

" _Yes_?"

I sighed. "That means facing my father."

"Come on, who doesn't _hate_ their parents? Just because your old man boned his sister, kidnapped you, staged your death, which drove her to suicide, and then sold you to a complete stranger with no security for your safety… He's no worse than anyone else!"

"You have _really_ low standards for 'not that bad'."

She picked up a bottle of vodka, checked for back wash, and then took a drink. "The bitch who birthed me sold me to Sinister, knowing full well what that monster does. I guess you could say it's _skewed me vision_ … At least Jean-Luc came back for you."

"Did he?"

"Don't stop in the dark woods when the wicked witch has you corned. You _know_ this tale as a happy ending… Why don't you finish it _before_ you lay blame?" She paused, "Besides, Belle needs help."

I perked up. "She does?"

"She's about to be burned at the stake for witchcraft-"

…

 _1915 New Orleans_

"Are you hurt?" I asked Belle. It was dark, but she seemed alright.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she replied.

I sighed, "Damn Fontanelle…"

Outside, a storm was raging. The wind was constant and deafening. Lightning struck, thunder close behind, and briefly illuminated the place. We were back in the Velvet Ministry. The building moaned and popped. A church bell clang out, warning of impending flood. The rain was coming down in sheets and I wondered if my city had built levees by 1915 or if this was the reason we started…

Luc entered, soaking wet, and called out for Antiquary.

A dozen disciples appeared like ghosts.

"What is it, Jean-Luc?" The ancient man asked.

"I want him back!"

"If you've been _scorned_ , perhaps a _voodoo priest_ can assist."

Luc tackled him to the ground and locked his hands around his pruned neck. "Where is he?!"

"Where no Thief will ever find him," he wheezed. "Go on… Think Jacques needs you more than me? He has _two_ sons… but _one_ Minister."

"I can live with that." Luc gripped him tighter.

"Mercy… _Mercy_! Let's bargain."

Luc tossed him a bag. "That's _ten times_ what you paid for him."

"I know." Antiquary rubbed his throat. "You're an idiot. What use have I for _money_? Judas _also_ sold his burdens for profit. You should've paid more attention in Sunday school. Then you'd know your real problems start after you've thrown them all away."

"What do you want?"

" _Your_ _life_. Dedicate seventy years to my service and then I'll return your precious bastard."

My father shook his head. "I won't let _him_ be your pawn for life, too."

"He's already there. In the future. And when we arrive, I can tell you where he is or I cannot tell you. You make the choice now, Jean-Luc. Refuse me now and I warn you, the price will increase."

They agreed and signed a contract in blood. It was an oath I knew my father would break. When he became Guildmaster, some thirty years in the future, one of his first acts was to banish Antiquary.

" _Convenient_ ," Belle bitterly said.

I nodded. "Luc knew _when_ I was, he just had to find out _where_. Stupid man shot himself in the foot with that one."

"That's not – never mind."

"What?"

She pursed her lips. "In seventy years, everyone who knew Luc and Lena would be _dead_. He could have you _and_ his honor."

"He came back for me."

"I suppose that's something."

…

 _1917 New Mexico_

Luc was sleeping in a hotel room. He slept through a disturbance down the hall, but Belle and I slipped through the door. A man was dragging a naked woman down the hall while another half-naked woman chased after them. She pulled a revolver and, although she was disguised, I instantly recognized Mystique _._ She fired twice, nailing him in the back.

He groaned in agony, drawing tenants from their rooms – including Luc.

" _Raven_! What did you do?! _"_ Her partner cried.

A spectator bellied up to the women. "You're them _German_ dames, ain't ya?"

Luc barked at him to fetch a doctor while applying pressure to the wound. Fat man hobbled away.

The shot man groaned, "I caught them fornicatin'. Heard it through the walls."

"You were _watching_ us through the walls! Pervert! I _saw_ you!"

Luc looked up and said, "I believe you ladies better leave town before the police arrive."

"My things!" Raven cried, suddenly all-girl. She ran back into their room and they hastily dressed while throwing everything else into a suitcase.

"God damn your _things_ , woman!" Luc growled. "You'll be lucky to leave with your _life_!"

The other woman embraced him from behind and said: "St. Francis Hospital. New Orleans. Third of April 1986 at midnight. That's where he is."

Slack-jawed, he watched them sprint away.

…

 _2019 New Orleans_

We were back in Belle's room, but this time she had company. She straddled a fit young man with sun-kissed skin. Their pelvises thrust together, working towards mutual climax.

"Oh god!" said the Belle beside me. Mortified, she covered her face and fled.

I couldn't move. Couldn't describe what I felt, either. This was the first time I'd been in a room while another couple made love, knowing they couldn't see or hear me. A thrill ran through me but it was laced with rage. I wanted to rip off his limbs and take her for myself. I had no right to these feelings.

She orgasmed – weakly – and then lay down beside him. They both struggled to catch their breath. Still panting, she got up, picked up her clothes and pulled them back on. At her dresser, she opened a water bottle.

"Got one for me?" her loved asked.

She looked cross. " _Clearly_ , you don't know who you're speaking to."

He smiled weakly. "How was it?"

"The sex? Or the _mission_?"

His smile fell. "Look, I know you don't like the fact that I killed the guards-"

"It's _sloppy_. They weren't the target."

"But they were a threat."

"No, they weren't! Glorified security guards are _not_ a threat!"

"I'm sorry. Next time-"

She laughed sharply. "Don't _flatter_ yourself. There will be _no_ _'next time'!"_

Suddenly pale, he stood and tried to run. His legs stiffened and he collapsed. Using his arms, he tried to crawl away.

"What a waste of my fucking time," she spat. When he stopped moving, she shook her head. "Stupid son of a bitch. _This_ is who they give me to work with."

Pale and weak, I stepped into the hallway, where Belle was still covering her face.

"Remy, I'm _so_ sorry… If I'd known you'd ever see that… I would've shaved."

"You _killed_ a man," I was surprised by my broken voice. "You took him to bed… _Knowing_ you'd _kill_ him."

She dropped her hands. "Get off your soap box! How many women did _you_ seduce, _knowin'_ you'd _rob_ them?"

Being compared to an Assassin was revolting. Stealing someone's _possessions_ wasn't the same as stealing their _life_.

"Why'd you spare me?" I asked. "Could've killed me _countless_ times."

"Because I thought we _loved_ each other! You _never_ fucked _anyone_ unless they were _marked_! You didn't make off with my _things_ but you took my heart and soul and the best years of my life. I was _practice_ for you but you were the love of my life."

"Don't re-write us that way. You know I loved you."

"Did you _Ginny_? Or _Candra_? Or _Lily_?

I wanted to reply no, I never loved those flings and she knew it. To compare _us_ to _them_ was an insult. She was hell-bent on offending me and I was determined not to let her. Frustrated (and if I'm being perfectly honest, the memory of her naked body was fresh in my thoughts), I expressed it with a kiss. And Christ, what a kiss!

She fished out my erection and encouraged its length with hard, quick strokes.

"Hope you shaved," I joked.

I twisted her hair and yanked her head back before nibbling on her breasts. I lingered there – no need to hurry. Finally, her hand moved between her legs and rubbed. The smell of her sex was intoxicating. Her other hand coached me forward, but I was determined to make this last. She _was_ special to me and if she'd forgotten what I'd _given_ in lieu of what I _got_ , I was happy to remind her.

"I'm gonna come," she panted.

"Not until I fuck you."

She moaned with delight. When I spread her knees and settled between her legs, I still didn't rush. Patience isn't usually a virtue, but it _is_ when making love to a woman. The first thrust was shallow and gentle. She begged incoherently. I steadily increased my pace, filling more and more of her each time. When all of me was buried in all of her, she climaxed. Not a weak one, either, like the dead man had given her, but an orgasm that made her back arch and toes curl and eyes roll back.

She wrapped her arms around me and made me forget all the fucked up shit I'd seen. So what if we were both monsters? At least we weren't alone.

"Can I come inside you?"

She grinned. "Not until I come again."

This time, she screamed so loud my ears rang. I spent myself in her womb, and as the adrenalin wore away, I realized what we'd done. I waited for regret to hit but I never felt it.

Younger-Belle exited her bedroom.

"We'd better go," she said, pulling her pants on. "She's about to dismantle the body."

…

 _2024 Tokyo_

Have you ever been woken up by sirens? I don't mean like an alarm clock or fire engine. I mean the type of siren that warns you of impending nuclear holocaust. That's how I awoke. Don't mind saying – I nearly shit myself.

Laura kicked open my door.

"Let's do this!" She threw my uniform and dashed away.

What happened to being a spectator? This had been going down _'Christmas Carol'_ style and I'd grown complacent thinking it'd remain so.

The city was the unfortunate backdrop to an alien invasion, and we were being hit from all sides. Armed robots rose from the sea, ships fired from the sky, and lines of foot soldiers mowed down the defending army. No one was interested in my excuses for sitting this one out.

I remember Rachel telling me she'd once sent her parents to the far future to raise baby Nathan. They'd lived there for ten years in the bodies of their distant descendants, she said, because their minds required a genetic match to mesh. I guessed that's what had happened to me. My current mind must've taken over my future body. Too bad I didn't have future-me's memories. This situation was deadly enough without being totally in the dark.

And where the hell was Belle?

Safe in New Orleans probably. Fuck, I _hoped_ she was safe.

"They've penetrated the atmosphere, so you know what that means," Laura said as our jet neared the battle.

"No!" I quickly answered. "What does it mean?"

A young Warren Worthington III sneered, "This isn't the time for jokes, Gambit."

Sabretooth cracked his knuckles. "This _team's_ a joke. Whole world's going to shit. You think we're gonna save it?"

"Damn straight," Laura stood proudly. "That's what we do."

Jubilee pulled her goggles down over her eyes. "I came to kick ass and chew bubble gum. And I'm fresh out of bubble gum."

If I was about to die, at least I'd die in good company.

Our jet took a hit and we had to bail before it smashed into the ground. In the chaos of battle, I lost track of everyone except Jubilee, who seemed to be sticking to my three o'clock. Another jet shot overheard and she cheered.

"Get'm, boys!" She saw my confusion and shouted, " _Avengers_!"

A sonic boom shook my chest and overhead, I watched an ant-sized person smash into a skyscraper. Debris rained over us and then Rogue slammed into the pavement. I expected her to leap up, brush it off, and fly back into the fight. But she didn't move.

I shouted for Sabretooth – she could use his healing factor – but he was long gone.

"Anna," I gently touched her arm, "What..?"

She grunted. "They stole my… powers… Victor can't help… No one can…"

I shook my head. "Stay with me, chere. Medic's on the way."

"Kiss me."

"No."

"Come on, Cajun... You've kissed worse… One more kiss… and I'll be happy."

Hot tears poured down my face. I leaned over and kissed her but she was already gone. The wrongness of it threatened to rip me apart. I was supposed to go first – not her. If there was any kind of justice in the world, my life would end before hers. This was my fault. I'd caused this by interrupting the time line, by focusing on Belle and the Guild instead of my team. I should've done more. Ready to die, I took out droves of attackers. How had these limp noodles taken out my incredible Rogue?

The sky went dark and I heard Jubilee cry my name.

…

 _2032 New Orleans_

"Look like you need a drink," my father said, handing me a glass.

I felt like I'd never seen him before. He wasn't the man he'd been in 1917 or 2017, and yet he _was_. He'd always been. My father was the father of lies; my mother, the mother of cowards. If they'd been braver, more honest people, I wouldn't have been chased into the distant future. I would never have met Belle or Rogue; would never have joined the Guild or the X-Men. I owed my life and everything in it to this man and his secrets.

"You lied to me," I said. "I know about Lena."

He dropped the glass. It spilled but didn't shatter, and he busied himself cleaning the carpet. He was going to ignore what I'd said, but I wasn't about to let it go.

"I know you regret it. And that you'd do it differently if you could go back… We don't have to talk about it. You've been lying so long, maybe you _forgot_ what really happened. But I want you to know I don't hate you."

He put the empty glass in the sink and hung the wet towel over the faucet. "The Cardinals are waitin'."

I tried to tell myself he needed time; that we'd discuss it later. But I was livid. Everything had always been about Luc and _his_ needs, _his_ wants, _his_ desires. He would never acknowledge the pain he'd caused Lena or the suffering he'd inflicted on me. No one _forced_ him to hurt her or abandon me. But he'd been so damned focused on _himself_. Whatever price _we_ paid for _his_ comfort was a sacrifice he gladly extracted. Belle had been right to criticize his sudden turn of heart.

Jesus, where was she?

We donned our dusters and headed down the street. You may be stunned to learn that a world without Rogue wasn't much different from a world with her. I know I was. The sky was still blue; the streets were still crowded. Mutants weren't being hunted and policed by Sentinels. I was disappointed. I wanted everyone to feel the hopeless, unending grief I felt. I needed her existence to mean life or death for everyone – she'd meant that much to me.

Never mind.

Another skip and I'd be back on the Enterprise. Then I could teleport home and prevent her death. I'd know better than to mention Lena to Jean-Luc. And I could watch with pride as Laura and Jubilee grew into ass-kickers.

One more skip. The cats would never even miss me…

We gathered in the Thieves Guild Hall. The Cardinals slowly joined. When I saw Belle, I leapt across the room and pulled her close. They laughed. Someone muttered: _'We should all greet our wives that way'_ , but I didn't give a fuck about playing emo. All those cold-hearted, half-dead, fish-eyed Council members were too afraid to show their emotions or even allow themselves to _feel_. I loved, goddamnit. And that mattered. I would never sacrifice love for power like they had done. Like my _father_ had done.

As we pulled apart, I saw myself in a mirror. My hair was thinner and salted. My face was lined with creases and scars I couldn't recall. Belle was still young and beautiful. Was she? I looked again with more critical eyes and decided yes, she was still a 28-year-old beauty. How?

"Gambit, you're making a scene," she said quietly. "We've been here for years. _Remember?_ "

When I thought back, I only remembered _my_ memories. I couldn't reach middle-aged-me's memories.

"No," I said. "I don't remember anything after Tokyo."

" _Tokyo_? You mean-" She stopped suddenly. "Leave the talking to me."

Everyone took their places and a man was brought to the center. A Cardinal said: "By decree of the Unified Guild, the Velvet Ministry is hereby abolished. All possessions and knowledge therein are the property of the Unified Guild. All persons and property therein are the property of the Unified Guild. In accordance with the Guild's tenants, which state one's body is subject to one's will alone, all former slaves of the Velvet Ministry are henceforth freed.

"Antiquary, you acted as proprietor, violating the laws of state, Guild, and mankind. Despite repeated warnings to cease or evict, you continued to operate unjustly. The punishment for such a crime is death. What say you?"

"You have no claim to my life," he sneered. " _Hypocrites_. Kill me and you violate your own tenant!"

"I can live with that." Belle said and drew her weapon.

"NO!" I shouted.

Everyone froze and turned my way.

"No one has more right to want him dead," I said, "But we can't do this. Belle… I can't let you kill anyone else."

I remembered her handsome lover crawling away as her poison rushed through his veins. I didn't know that man. But I knew from experience that every murder killed a little more of her, and I wasn't prepared to lose her, too.

"Then let _me_ ," said a man. He stepped forward and I recognized him as Damien, the boy with the bowl-haircut, fully grown. "This abomination has stolen countless lives. Used his magic to inflict infinite suffering. He should forfeit not _one_ life but _hundreds_! If it pleases the Cardinals, I will imprison this creature for hundreds of lifetimes until he dies a forgotten old man. I give my word, Guild Masters, that _I_ will not kill him _nor_ allow another to kill him."

Antiquary then begged for death, but we agreed to Damien's terms.

Luc slipped out unseen and Belle took me home. There, I told her about Rogue's death and my argument with my father. I felt guilty but she advised me to drop it. She was right. Luc would continue to ignore what I'd said until it suited him to do otherwise. Sadly, there was no easy solution to Rogue's death.

She was _still_ dead.

"After the fight in Tokyo," said Belle, "you were a mess. Laura asked me to stay with you… And you said you'd never gotten over me." She showed me pictures of Rogue's memorial and our wedding. The second affair had been very low-key compared to the first, but I'd worn a tie and carried her bridal-style. "You don't remember _any_ of this?"

"No… How is it _you_ remember? How have you never aged?"

She laughed. "Oh, trust me, I've aged."

"No you haven't… You're the same age you were twenty years ago. You're a _witch_ , aren't you?"

"Can't argue that, but I haven't been here all along. This Belle let me access her memories. _He_ remembers _you_. My husband – or – hers... You know what I mean."

Morning Star, our orange tabby, crawled between us. I absently scratched his ears.

"Are you happy here?" I asked. "Is she?"

"Oh yes," she said sadly. "Here, we made a map… Sleep and death are the gateways. You drop in on Luc every two years. You see me in increments of five years. Rogue was seven years. And this is only the second time you've dropped in on Antiquary, so it's… Nineteen years. And with every round, another person gets added. We never could deduce _why_ someone was chosen, except they played important roles in your life."

"I can't imagine who's left… Unless it's someone _**I**_ haven't met."

"You probably wouldn't expect me or Antiquary to show up, either."

"That's not true."

"It's okay. You loved me once and you'll love me again. But you never love me when we're here."

"I'm sorry, Belle. I can't change how I feel."

She braced her lips against her teeth. "I want my husband back."

I reached deep down and felt myself float away. One more skip. One more and I'd be home again.

…

 _To Be Concluded…_

…


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

 _2042 New Orleans_

Everyone took their places and a man was brought to the center. A Cardinal said: "By decree of the Unified Guild, the Crimson Order is hereby abolished. All possessions and knowledge therein are the property of the Unified Guild. All persons and property therein are the property of the Unified Guild. In accordance with the Guild's tenants, which state one's body is subject to one's will alone, all former slaves of the Crimson Order are henceforth freed.

"Damien, you acted as proprietor, violating the laws of state, Guild, and mankind. Despite repeated warnings to cease or evict, you continued to operate unjustly. The punishment for such a crime is death. What say you?"

Wait a minute… Had I gone _back_ in time? Or _forward_? I'd been here, seen this, I _knew_ how this ended.

Damien pierced my eyes with his and smiled, just like that boy years ago in the Velvet Ministry's library. Suddenly, I was looking at myself wearing his smile.

"Wait, no!" I – imprisoned in Damien's condemned body – tried to protest.

Belle revealed her weapon and approached.

"Stop! Belle, it's _me_!" I said.

Our eyes locked, she hesitated, and Damien attacked her from behind. Out of habit, I reached in my pockets for something to charge and hurl. I grabbed handfuls of sand, thought I charged them, and threw it in his face. Actually, what I'd done was weaken his hold.

"Bring a priest," said Belle, "Damien's used his magic to switch bodies with Remy."

No one moved. Finally, someone asked: "How can you tell?"

"Damnit, man, you think I wouldn't know my own husband? We'll hold them both here until a priest can sort them out."

Damien, trapped in my old man's body, lay helplessly on the floor. "They won't arrive in time," he sneered. "The time wheel will come for me first. It comes for this _body_ , not you. Rest assured, Gambit, I'll make better use of your powers than you ever did."

"You're not goin' anywhere," I said.

"But I already have. How do you explain the seventy year leap? Did you think my _mentor_ did that? Ha! If only… No. _I'm_ going to use this body to bring you closer to my birth. I hear you have a cult following in a thousand years. They think the X-Men were _gods_. I believe I'll be quite happy there."

Belle, still young and beautiful, went pale. "If he doesn't go back… It'll create a paradox."

" _Bullshit!_ " I said, "He ain't goin' nowhere."

A voodoo priest arrived with moments to spare. He switched us back into our rightful bodies just as time rolled over again.

"I'll never see you again," Belle said with tears in her eyes.

I swore to her I'd return.

It wasn't easy – physically or emotionally – stealing my infant self and abandoning me in a hospital decades away. I waited until Luc arrived and stole me yet again. With Antiquary nearby, Luc couldn't risk exposing me yet, so he hid me in an illegal orphanage. When I started running around at night, he had Fagan look after me. And those men who'd attacked eight-year-old Belle? He put them up to it, knowing I'd rush in to rescue her. A couple years later, he snatched me off the streets.

"You love her, don't you? She won't have you if you can't provide for her." He'd said.

So he and I stuck together: slaving away for a family we already had. Somehow, we both knew we were unworthy of the other, and we couldn't break out of our painful roles. He was determined to make me a Master Thief so I'd never be dependent on him; I was determined to be a Master Thief so he'd be proud of me. Sadly, getting that achievement was quickly followed by my disastrous first wedding to Belle…

Even after I left New Orleans, I kept running from them. I didn't realize Luc had taught me the skills I needed to survive anywhere. My memories of Belle kept me from settling with the first woman who'd have me. She taught me what love was. I never thought I'd love anyone else until Rogue came along… Had she ever _really_ loved me? I'd seen this part of my life three times now and I _still_ didn't know.

Our kiss in Israel, our night in Antarctica, our house in California – all bittersweet memories more poignant the second time around. Then, I watched her die again in Tokyo. The rage and sorrow, the bottomless depression was even worse this time. When Belle rescued me, I fell in love with her all over again. Go ahead and tell me it was rebound. Everyone else did. I knew better, but "knowing" I'd marry her "one day" didn't make our future any more secure. I "knew" I'd marry her "one day" when I was sixteen, too, and look how _that_ turned out…

Twenty-two years after our first wedding, we married again. We operated the Guild together; bought a house and got a cat. Yes, we were happy… except when young me popped in from time to time, determined to change things and certain he knew it all. I've always had a talent for keeping my thoughts private. Telepaths can't explain it. I used this same method for keeping young-me out of my memories, but it came back to bite me in the ass. As I aged, my mental walls closed in. My mind was so protected even _I_ couldn't access it.

But it was nobly done. With time, Belle and I discovered more about my time-traveling abilities. The Melchizedek grid, which transposes space and time, prevented me from accessing composite years. I could only move to prime numbers – two, three, five, seven, and nineteen years. Besides my mutant ability, there are only a few ways to access the grid: machines are obviously the most popular method. Sleep is another gateway, which is how Fontanelle managed, by hacking into my dreams. The only other way, which is how Belle must've gotten in… is death.

When I tried to stop my younger self from killing Julien and he stabbed her instead, she died. But rather than going to heaven or hell or wherever the dead go, she got pulled in with me.

So why was _she_ given a reprieve while _Rogue_ was not?

At first I thought there was no explanation. I thought it was another injustice dealt to me by the universe, but I couldn't let it go. Eventually I discovered that based on quantum physics, I could only take one person with me. That's why I was all alone on the Enterprise (except for Fontanelle), and why I viewed the past alone (except for Belle).

If the younger version of myself had seen this in my thoughts… He would've let Belle die. He would've saved Rogue instead. Maybe they would've worked out their issues like Belle and I did; maybe they would've been happily married somewhere. But _**I**_ wouldn't let that happen. I never gave him a choice.

* * *

 _Three weeks later…_

"Your play, cher."

I rubbed my grey beard and looked over the board. "And I have one…"

"Could've fooled me." Irritated, she rested her chin on the heels of her palms. When a car pulled up, she rushed to the porch railing. "Luc and Marge are here!"

I smacked her ass.

"Stop that!" she hollered.

"Never! Look at me. Are you listening? I will _never_ stop."

"Should've put _that_ in the wedding vows."

My father, ever middle-aged and now younger than me, helped his elderly bride out of the car and onto our front porch. Marge was in her eighties now and her balance was precarious, but her mind was as sharp as ever. I had the opposite problem – mushy brains and solid abs.

"What wedding vows?" Marge asked.

"I was tellin' Remy we should've vowed to never stop smackin' each other's rears."

"Now there's a promise to keep!" cheered my step-mother. "If you can't be naughty together, who _can_ you be naughty with?"

I cleared the Scrabble board. "I was about to win, but we can start over since y'all are here."

Belle brought out a pitcher of tea and Luc turned on the radio. My little, white-haired companion looked around helplessly. "Well, if everyone's going to wait hand and foot on me, you can throw the game, too. One syllable words, if you please. It'll make me feel smarter."

"Anything for you," I winked.

She smiled and touched her temple with her forefinger.

The wind changed direction and the temperature dropped. Marge pulled her shawl around her shoulders and looked at the clouds. "Heavens! Is that the weather or did my vision finally go?"

Belle and I looked at each other apprehensively. This was no ordinary storm; this was time rolling back on me. The journey would deposit me at the Enterprise, where I could return to the point of departure. If all worked out well, current-me would appear as past-me left. But that life had been so long ago.

I grabbed my wife's hand and thought _'Don't go, don't go, don't go'._ But I felt myself fading and the sound of rain, thunder and tempests overwhelmed my senses. Then... It stopped.

"Bella Donna?" Luc said, "You feeling alright, petite? Lookin' awfully green around the gills…"

She nodded. "Just allergies."

"Or maybe someone's cutting onions," said Marge. "Now, are we going to play? Or are you waiting for me to _die_?"

There was much to do since Damien's incarceration. We wouldn't make the same mistakes as we'd made with Antiquary. No, the Crimson Order would be incorporated into the Guild. I didn't like it, but the antiques had to be protected and I trusted no one more than my own clan. The slaves knew no life outside of obedience – they had to be deprogramed. Again, I trusted no one else to this task.

I wish I could say what happened to Lena's body, but I never found out. Belle pointed out that the Church would never have buried her since she took her own life. So she'd either been cremated, buried in a pauper's grave, or Luc had secretly buried her on consecrated ground. I wondered if her true coffin had been unearthed by some very confused construction workers or if it'd been lost and built over.

My father never spoke of her. It was like he'd dammed everything in and any crack would dismantle the whole operation.

The work kept me young, but I knew I wouldn't live forever. I adopted a protégé, Claire, who reminded me so much of my sweet, stubborn Rogue. Belle was disappointed. I think she wanted me to choose someone more like _her_ , but Claire was level-headed and brought balance to the Guild.

Years flipped by. While my fingers stiffened, the X-Men were disbanded. The year Marge passed was the year Luc moved in to help Belle and me… Truthfully, he was helping _her_ take care of _me_ , but I was too humiliated to admit it. Never expected to live this long. He'd read me the newspaper – the Jean Grey High School was being turned into a historical land-mark; Ororo Munroe won a Nobel Peace Prize; Laura Kinney had joined the Avengers – and I listened quietly, wondering who he was talking about.

Sometimes Belle and I fought about the stupidest things. She didn't want me cooking or exercising, but she didn't want me sitting around all day, either. Sure, I sometimes forgot I'd turned on the stove or how much I could bench-press, but that was no excuse to scold me like a child.

I could _never_ make her happy.

Claire got me a dog, a bullmastiff I named Tsavo. Never been a "dog person", but this mild-mannered lion kept me occupied and out of trouble. On the days I was too tired to get out of bed, Tsavo laid with me. Belle never slept in the bed with me anymore. I snored and was often sick. Every winter, it took me longer and longer to recover.

The man I'd become was a stranger. An ugly, old, worthless stranger. My double-jointed knuckles swelled and locked; my hair turned white and frail; my skin stretched like parchment paper over easily-bruised veins. Where was that young man with charm? When had all my adventures become stories I'd told again and again until all the flavor had been sucked out? Where had all my friends been buried?

And then, one summer afternoon twenty-nine years after I'd decided to stay, the wheel of time came for me again.

"Belle?" I called, but my voice was too weak to carry. " _Belle!_ "

Tsavo sat up and barked.

Belle ran into the room. "Remy?!"

"Do you feel it?"

"Yes."

"I'm not going crazy, am I?"

"Oh, you've _been_ crazy, cher."

Weakly, I grabbed her hand. "I'm going back… Please don't hate me."

"You're man enough for more than one life." She kissed me. "Good-bye, my love."

As the room faded away, I kept gasping. There was so much I wanted to tell her… That I was sorry I'd been such a burden these last few years. And how I regretted all those years we'd been apart. And that I'd often been unfaithful, but my love for her was undiminished. I hoped I hadn't hurt her. And if I had it all to do again, I'd always pick her. _Always_. And, and, and. There was so much left unsaid. How had we spent our entire lives together and still not said everything? And where was Luc? I wanted to know he'd take care of Belle for me… to say good-bye, although it wasn't _really_ good-bye… At least, I _hoped_ I wasn't dying.

Rogue.

Lena.

…

Blackness.

Humming.

No, not humming – purring.

I woke up on my couch in Manhattan, sleepy-eyed Lucifer content as my pillow. When I moved, my joints didn't scream in agony. Color appeared ultra-saturated; sound, rich and bold. I looked over the balcony and felt my life without Belle or Luc or Claire. Just me. I realized too late how lucky that forgetful, useless old man had been.

…

 _The End._

…


End file.
